Very Important
by BetweenLines55
Summary: Sirius Black does not do Very Important Dates. Especially not with blokes. What does one do when on a date with a bloke anyways? Well, certainly don't ask James. Poor Remus. Wolfstar first date. For Hay, Merry Christmas. T for language and kissing and teenagers in general.


**Slightly late Christmas gift for the Hassan to my Colin. Enjoy Your Wolfstar first date, Hay.**

Sirius really didn't do Very Important Dates.

Sure, he'd take out whatever bird of the week was on his arm to the Three Broomsticks for a pint and a nightcap in a broom closet of the nearest accessibility. That was mindless, easy, teenage fun. Birds were easy. Tell them they're pretty, give them chocolate, hold their hand and stay far away during their week with the devil. Simple stuff (how did all those blokes manage to get it wrong? Mankind had progressed so much and men still couldn't ask women out?)

This was different though. This was Remus. Remus was a bloke (Sirius knew for sure, he'd checked) and that complicated things. You didn't tell blokes that they were pretty, or open doors for them. You didn't get to save love notes with the "I"s dotted with hearts and monthly problems usually didn't occur. What the hell did you do with a bloke? Did you talk about sports and compare each other's muscle tone? Sirius always considered himself to be highly aware and adaptable but he was coming up blank.

Even the bloke thing aside, Remus was something special, a someone who deserved Very Important Dates. He was special in a way that made Sirius want to reach out across the table at breakfast just to hold Remus' hand. He wanted to steal Remus' shapeless jumpers and wear them just for the smell. He wanted to wake up next to Remus and hold him during the time leading up to the full moon and count the number of freckles between his shoulder blades.

Wonderful, patient Remus with his honey-blond hair and amber eyes and chocolate addiction and ugly, worn jumpers that smelled like the library Sirius usually despised. James would have to shut him up all the time when he'd go on about something especially poofy like the color of Remus' eyes. (They were a particular shade of amber, a touch more of a golden hue and—well, point proven.)

What did a pair of blokes even do on a date? It couldn't be this, because this was gayer than the two of them, and he couldn't even bloody see Rem over the Cupid sculpture erected in the middle of their table. This was definitely the last time he ever took advice from a wanker like James.

Bloody Potter.

Madame Puddifoot's was a place that Sirius had been once on a date in fourth year floosey of a fifth year Ravenclaw named Violetta (regrettably how he had lost his virginity, but then again he had been younger and stupider and much more hormonal) and had not stepped foot in since. The place stank of roses and cheap love potion, covered in doilies like the ones at his great aunts and ribbon and lace and _pink_. _Pink_. Sirius Black definitely did not do _pink_.

Madame Puddifoot was a stout woman of about 45 with reddish hair, puffy cheeks and a cutesy little voice that made Sirius want to vomit. It was a slow night, only a few couples far too involved in themselves to notice that two of the _Marauders_ were on a date at _Puddifoot's_ and for that, the dark haired wizard was thankful. Puddifoot had taken their order (Lady Grey with milk, a black coffee, and a plate of biscuits) and now they were alone sitting across from each other in an awkward silence.

Remus, wonderful, understanding Remus, had this wry sort of look on his face, which was flushed slightly by the heat of the room. He was looking at Sirius intently, as if almost amused that they were here in this bloody tea shop on a date and picking at the doily covered tablecloth.

"So, um, this is..." Sirius tried, really, but he couldn't get over how much he had epically failed this one, and how Remus was probably going to laugh at him and never going to talk to him or go on a date with him ever again and that would really be a problem because damn he was whipped and oh Remus had started to say something.

"—is nice, Siri."

Wait.

"You're kidding, tell me you're kidding, because this place is horrid and James is a wanker and I'm never listening to him again."

Remus laughed his lovely laugh, "It's nice because I'm on a date with you, Sirius. I didn't know you were a fan of this place, though." The twinkle in his golden eyes was stronger than ever and Sirius wanted to laugh in relief.

"Merlin, this place is horrid. Why did I go to _James_ for _relationship advice_? It's like going to _Snivellus_ for _beauty tips_." Sirius said, watching happily as Remus cracked a smile. There was a few moments of content silence before Remus cocked his head towards the door, "You wanna get out of here? I've got an idea."

"Oh Moony, what could possibly be better than sitting in this lovely tea shop with me?" He batted his eyelashes a few times for good measure and helped Remus into his coat as the werewolf called to Puddifoot, "Could we have that order to go?"

.

.

.

Sirius had to admit that the coffee was good...but holding Remus' hand was better. Remus had bony hands, with long fingers that tied up his pony tail every day and danced along the bindings of books when he read. A thin glove with a hole under the thumb was the only thing that was separating their hands as they walked through a darkening Hogsmeade.

His werewolf seemed to know where he was going, following the twists of the streets, past the Three Broomsticks where Sirius had first though they'd been headed. The pub smelled lovely, the aroma of Rosemerta's heaven-sent chips wafting into the street. He almost suggested they go back and grab an order when his canine enhanced ears picked up music. Remus caught his eye, "I had a feeling something like this was going to happen."

"You doubt me," Sirius said, only half joking. Remus shook his head, "Of course not, Padfoot, you doubt yourself."

Before Sirius could ask what Rem could possibly mean by that cryptic statement, the taller boy had lead them too an outdoor garden filled with a sizable crowd listening to a wrock band on the stage. Immediately, as the two elbowed their way through the crowd, Sirius started to pick out faces. Marlene and Dorcas, doing a weird combination of snogging and dancing were wrapped in an old vintage coat of Marlene's that had seen better days. "Lesbians," Sirius muttered, shaking his head. Remus snorted.

Greta Catchlove, the Prewett twins, Mary MacDonald and several others dotted about the crowd. "_The Basilisk in Your Pasta_?" Sirius asked, gesturing to the name of the band that was displayed on a brightly colored banner hanging over the stage. "They're French," Remus explained, "What do you expect?"

The concert continued, with Remus's arms warm around him as they more or less followed Marlene and Dorcas' example. Rem was an excellent kisser, and he tasted like Lady Grey and shortbread. Better yet, Sirius didn't feel like the slightest bit remorseful about the wrinkles he was surely making in Remus' shirt and coat and the misplacement of the taller boy's scarf. Then again, Remus wasn't so innocent either; the werewolf's hands had gravitated towards the back pockets of Sirius' jeans (skintight as always) and they were riding a bit lower than usual. There was Remus' hot breath and warm skin and the cool night and the French wrock music from the stage and suddenly Sirius didn't mind Very Important Dates.

.

.

.

"So what exactly possessed you to ask James Charlus Potter of all people about romance of all things?" Remus asked with that same wry tone from earlier, though now his left hand was stuffed in the right back pocket of Sirius' jeans as they walked to the castle. With their height difference, the dog animangus was easily able to put his head on the bony should of his...boyfriend?

"Oh, well, Merlin, this is embarrassing but, well...lookRemusyou'rethefirstblokeI'veevertakenoutonadateandIwantedittobeperfect."

Remus stopped walking, turning to look at Sirius with a bewildered expression on his face, "Well you've gone on dates before—"

"Yes but with birds and—"

Remus, as smart as ever, kissed Sirius to shut him up properly. "Look, you arse, all those things you do on dates, all that hand holding and chocolate buying and love notes, it...it shouldn't matter the gender with which you do them with, it should only matter that you mean as much."

Sirius stopped and looked at Remus and the earnest look on his face. "Of course you're right, Rem. You're always right. When have you ever been wrong? I LOVE YOU REMUS JOHN LUPIN AND I SHALL ALWAYS DO SO."

With this he proceeded to run ahead, screaming to the world his feelings. Remus was smiling hard behind him, a smile so wide it almost cracked his face in two. "I'd say you're drunk but you've only had a coffee."

"Oh, but, my dear Moonikins, I am drunk. DRUNK ON LOVE!"

Remus ran up behind him and lifted Sirius up into his arms, kissing him hard. Sirius was pleasantly surprised, he had forgotten about Remus' werewolf sized strength. "So I guess you're my boyfriend now." Sirius said, still a good foot and a half off the ground.

Remus buried his face into Sirius' coat, "I guess I am."

.

.

.

The next morning, Remus woke to a Sirius sized indent in his bed and a box of chocolates with a note attached on the pillow beside him.

**My dear Moony, I'm rubbish at love note writing**

**But you're special,**

**And I love you**

**So let me make up for my fuck ups with this chocolate**

**And a rendezvous after Charms**

**In the third floor broom closet**

**The one by the arch windows**

**With love,**

**Padfoot xoxo**

* * *

**Btw, the Basilisk in Your Pasta is a real wrock group and they are actually French. Reviews are love and feed my lonely inbox.**


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